


The Unseen

by comeonlight



Category: Final Fantasy Type-0
Genre: Gen, Mild Blood, Possibly Canon Compliant By Technicality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeonlight/pseuds/comeonlight
Summary: From this realm, one can see all of time. This place houses knowledge nigh infinite. That fact, however, does not fully eliminate the element of surprise."Rise From The Ashes" Zine submission.
Kudos: 2





	The Unseen

Past. Present. Future. Existence, and nonexistence. Endless possibility. Invariability. Nothing. Everything. This is a realm of contradiction.

"She" pens down a new reality, automatically, like a machine. "Her" mind wanders, as it always has, sorting through memories, organizing them. They've never been completely… real? Whole? Should "she" even be trying to solve this puzzle? Why does "she" refer to "herself" as such, if these sorts of descriptions are something created by humans, used by humans, but "she" is not human? Perhaps the same reason "she" ... _she_ retains this form. It is the only one she truly knows; or at least, the only one that feels tangible.

All that was, and all that ever will be: among all of this information, among the countless histories, only one record of her exists. She sees the events beyond this realm through the eyes of others, for her own memory is lost. They called her, "Miyu." She befriended them, led them. And… she judged them, as the Arbiter: Myuuria. Those days are out of reach now. Probably. Even if she did discover a way to leave the realm of Valhalla on her own, would she want to?

  
  


Miyu's footsteps echo up and down the endless rows of colorless shelves. The leather-bound tomes fill up, by her own hand or by the magic of an unknown recordkeeper — likely a system put in place by Etro Herself, always with more space for new memories, new futures, inabsolutes and microcosmic laws. She reads for a moment; she reads for eternity. It is all the same here.

Miyu's strides come to a halt. A spiral staircase materializes before her. A change of scenery is overdue; of course, the view of Valhalla itself offers not much variety. Any points of interest, she'd investigated not long after awaking at the edge of the realm, surrounded by mist and without any memories. How long has it been? Could she say that any time has passed at all, given the nature of this world? This place begets many questions, and strangely, far more answers.

"Ace." Miyu sounds it out slowly as she ascends the stairs. There is no need for speech here, for her means of communication with Etro is far beyond such a method, but she is loath to let the skill deteriorate. "Deuce. Trey. Cater. Cinque." She can see them. She can see their memories. Every last spiral. "Sice. Seven. Eight. Nine." Their wishes, their fears, their love and hatred. "Jack. Queen. King." She can see them, those removed: "Tohno. Lean." Those who survived: "Machina. Rem." And so many others. She knows them; each and every detail. She's watched a billion different versions of each of their lives and yet an unbridgeable gap persists. It must be because of the memories she gave up.

Miyu emerges onto a terrace decorated with runes and statues, lit by lanterns whose warm light shines through the fog covering the land. "Mother." The word leaves a foul taste in her mouth, but she must say it. She relinquished her memories to Mother, so that Mother might have faith in the strength of human souls and continue her experiment, one day forging Agito.

They called her, "Miyu." And she condemned them to a cycle nothing short of hell.

Miyu spies a red glow, somewhere far and deep in the mist. The Eidolons in the realm must be locked in combat again. Why fight? Miyu can't find the sense in it, after all she's seen. At least, those once bound to Mother's experiment are free now. Agito will not fulfill their divine calling. Perhaps Miyu's former self would have continued to seek out a way to open the Gate. She's imagined it before… and she prefers herself as she is, here. The Goddess, weary as She may be from the injuries She incurred in Her pursuits of creation, observes each and every life keenly, showing curiosity and kindness, and treating Miyu almost as She would one of Her precious humans. Her Creator, hellbent on Her destruction and the ultimate origin of Orience's misery, sleeps. Would Gala hate Miyu if he knew of the desire she developed to guard the Goddess in order to protect the souls of humankind? Would he seek her out and kill her in a blind fury, no matter the cost? She hasn't great doubt.

A disturbance. Has another history been rewritten? Miyu never tampers with the annals, but occasionally beings outside this realm manage to forge their own fates. This doesn't feel the same, however…

The temple shakes as a mighty force intrudes. This cannot be. The Eidolons in Valhalla have no will to enter this place, let alone the power to do so. Miyu summons a white sigil beneath her feet, a simple set of triangles arranged in a circular pattern. She teleports at once to the temple's entrance to confront the intruder, and to rid the grounds of them by whatever means necessary.

The statue of Mwynn at the temple's entrance is broken in half, the pieces surrounded by rubble from a decimated pillar. The blue haze of the realm's fog leaks in, unnatural against the clear and intricate architecture. Magic bunches together and stretches out as a translucent white web working to repair the damage. It is a barrier against all who would defile this place, yet something has torn through the defense. Miyu gazes into the mist. She hears nothing. Has the culprit retreated?

No. Debris unseen stirs with movement. Miyu jumps back as Thunder magic explodes with a wicked roar. The barrier breaks again, dropping more rubble as a figure lurches out of the mist. It's… a young woman. She's covered in blood. Strands of her long black hair stick to her forehead, glossed with sweat. Fury pulses in her eyes, purple and deranged. Miyu knows her. Of all possible futures, the one to prevail is one she has not seen.

Queen stumbles forward, the hilt of her sword clenched in her damp, crimson hand. The barrier envelops her, only to shrink away and wither at her pained shout of defiance. Her facial muscles twitch beneath her cut and bruised skin. More blood spills onto the floor with every sluggish step she takes. Queen speaks, drawing a ragged breath between each word:

" **Give… them…** **back** **."**


End file.
